


Please Be A Dream

by U848587



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Cicero is the Dovahkiin, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, M/M, Modern Character in Skyrim, Self-Insert, Skyrim Main Quest, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/U848587/pseuds/U848587
Summary: She woke up as a male Altmer and is determined that this is all a Lucid Dream in her head. That's what she tells herself when her eyes linger too long upon him, it's all a dream she thinks when he kisses her hand, please be a dream she whispers when Cicero absorbs the Dragon Soul and later pushes her against the wall in the room they rented at the  Banner Mares and savagely takes her mouth in his.





	Please Be A Dream

 

**Chapter One: Unbound**

  
The massive headache was the first hint that something was wrong. Attempting to open her eyes, she was forced to squint them against bright morning light, the first deep breath she took awake was so free of pollutants that she ended up choking. Clearing her throat she finally sat up properly from her slouched position...in a wagon?

  
Her head jerked around as her eyes tried to take in everything; it was like a reenactment of the beginning of Skyrim. Four prisoners in a wagon going down a hill to Helgen with the fourth one wearing a Gag....and she was wearing Rags.

  
Confused she looked down and pulled at the rough material in disgust with her bound hands. She felt the rough drag of the material against her sides and across her chest which keyed her into her next problem...her boobs were gone.

  
Splaying her hand wide across the right side of her chest she didn't voice her confusion or horror that her petite 32B boobs were gone; not even A's remained. Shuffling her legs closed informed her of what she couldn't see...she had dangly bits!

  
Her brain clung to the thought that she was Lucid Dreaming because it was the only thing that made since to explain how she was suddenly Very Male...and also the very realistic quality of pure Skyrim feeling sinking into her bones; another part of her brain was silent with Shock because this was way to real.  
"Hey, you." Her head jerked up and took in the blonde stormcloak, Ralof. "You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

  
She shook her head negative, speechless, how could she explain that she didn't remember the time between her bed and this moment. Thinking on it as Lokir complained, she realized she couldn't remember falling asleep or what she was doing last. Thoughts for later or after I wake up, she thought as Lokir grabbed her attention by addressing her. "You there. You and me -- we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

  
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

The Wagon driver obviously an Imperial interrupted there pow wow yelling, "Shut up back there!"

  
Lokir nodded towards Ulfric, completely ignoring the Imperial. "And what's wrong with him?"

  
Ralof glared at Lokir his lips pulling as he snarled, "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." She was completely captivated by Ralof's expressions, not even MODs could have done this Dream ( _please be a dream_ ) justice.

  
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?"

  
"The chopping block," she quipped. Her voice...sounded deeper slightly but still within the same high female pitch she was used to. Lokir turned to her in horror.

  
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." Ralof agreed with her. Ulfric was watching them, unable to join in there Macabre conversation.

  
"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." Lokir denied, shaking his head. The look on his face was pure fear, a cornered rat, She felt her heart speed up in sympathetic fear even though this was a Dream ( _please be a dream_ ).

  
"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" Ralof asked.

  
"Why do you care?" Lokir sneered looking sick.

  
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." Ralof's voice was gentle, She was surprised to realize he was trying to help Lokir in a way.

  
"Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead."

  
As they approached Helgen, She found herself addressing Lokir without looking at him, because she couldn't take her eyes off the Village inside a Fort. "Lokir, do not attempt to run. You will be killed by the Archers. Stay in the line up, and you will have a chance to survive." In her distraction (Cause seriously MODs couldn't do her Dream ( _please be a dream_ ) justice) She didn't notice the three other prisoners in the wagon regard her in confused wariness. It was oddly specific to address only one of them and tell them specifically how he would die....and she had emphasized 'Survive' after stating that they were headed to the 'Chopping Block.'

  
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" She leaned slightly to get a better look of the old General who reminded her of a Roman General with his uniform and the fact that his silver hair was cut short and attempting to curl.

  
"Good. Let's get this over with." Even his voice was commanding. Though she expected no less from someone in a 'leader' position.

  
Lokir began muttering names to himself, "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me." he begged.

  
"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." He was glaring at them as the wagon passed by, but when he turned back to look at her he winced with a shrug. She only half payed attention to him, having already heard this conversation over several glorious play throughs of her favorite RPG. As he explained his old feelings She leaned towards Lokir who looked like he was going to puke. Ignoring Ulfric, who was watching and listening.

  
"This is your Divine Intervention," she patiently told Lokir, he looked at her like a caught rabbit and as his breathing calmed for a moment she continued, cause she had his full attention. ( _This was her dream, which means if she willed it so, it would be so._ ) "When we stop and get off this wagon they will call our names, if you run you will die, if you don't you will live..." his eyes were riveted upon her face as she calmly explained the future as if it were the weather. "A Stormcloack will be beheaded, and then they should call me...then a distraction will occur and that is your moment to run." she sat back up and sighed.

  
Lokir did not look away from her, nor did Ulfric, until the wagon finally halted and everyone was ordered to get off. She looked around wondering if in this dream she was the Dragonborn or if it was another one among the lot.

  
"End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." Ralof muttered. Lokir seemed to want to make his customary speech about not being a rebel, but her words obviously had affected him enough to stop him in his tracks.

  
"Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time!" The Female Captain ordered.

  
"Empire loves their damn lists." Ralof muttered.

  
Hadvar was holding a medium tomb and a quill obviously checking off names, "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm."

  
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof said.

  
Hadvar continued, "Ralof of Riverwood. Lokir of Rorikstead." She saw Lokir tense, and as he took a step forward she gripped his arm and whispered a reminder. "If you run you die, if you walk towards the block you will survive," she released him hastily under the Captain's glare.

  
"Wait, you there. Step forward. Who are you?" Hadvar asked.

  
"Archibal," she smirked, remembering her love of putting puns into her character names.

  
"You're not with the Thalmor Embassy, are you, high elf? No, that can't be right...Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list." She quickly remembered the look Ralof gave her after he insulted the Thalmor and realized she was an Altmer, 'High Elf' which meant she had 50 extra magicka, +5 in all magic skills but +10 in Illusion. She winced because she wasn't particularly skilled at playing Mages...she always ended up switching to spend her points in non-combatant skills and just switching out whatever blade she had with the one that dealt the most damage. It took her a while to realize that the Perk Tree could boost her warrior build.

  
She also didn't think she could swing Gunjar's axe without hurting her wrists aside from the point that she had never and could never hurt a person outside of a video game. Which meant Ralof would need to be a super awesome tank and take out the captain and her assistant soldier by himself whilst probably protecting her...unless the Dragonborn chose to follow him as well.

  
The Imperial Captain brought her out of her musings as she said, "Forget the list. He goes to the block."

  
"By your orders, captain. " Hadvar turned back to look at her and the rest of the line up of prisoners, "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to the Summerset Isle." he gestured towards the block, as the Captain turned to join the General. "Follow the Captain, prisoner."

  
Lokir was ridged beside Ralof staring at the blood stained chopping block. ( **Dream its a Dream** ( _please be a dream_ ).)

  
Tullius stood in front of Ulfirc and placed his hands upon his hips, "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." Ulfric made a grunting noise at the General. The General ignored him and continued, "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

  
A distant noise that She knew was Alduin came down from the mountainside. Everyone glanced around in confusion except her, she kept her eyes on the side of the tower which would give her the first glimpse of Alduin.

  
"What was that?" Hadvar asked. Lokir's eyes widened as he listened in disbelief.

  
"It's nothing. Carry on." the General ordered.

  
The Imperial Captain saluted, "Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites." she ordered, gesturing to a priest.

  
As the Priestess of Arkay began the Last Rites Lokir leaned towards her, "What is the distraction?"

  
"A Dragon," she answered with confidence as a Stormcloack swaggered forward interrupting the Priest.

  
"For the love of Talos, shut up and lets get this over with."

  
"As you wish..." the Priestess growled annoyed, lowering her arms and walking away.

  
The soldier went to his knees before the block and laid his head down, "Come on, I haven't got all morning." His bravado was as obvious as his anger, "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

  
She watched in horror as the Executioners Axe fell, heard the sound of the blade slicing through the air and then bone and meat, heard the thud as it embedded itself into the block and the soldiers head fell into the basket. A Dream ( _please be a dream_ ), A Nightmare ( ** _please be a nightmare_** ), the only thing that allowed her to calmly approach the block, eyes fixated on all the blood (s _o much blood, how did the body have so much blood_ ) was the memory of the game and how this was supposed to play out.

  
As the crowd boo'd and cheered she told herself she was safe, she wouldn't die, that fire would rain down on the castle and she would run for the watch tower behind her and queue parquer antics.

  
"There it is again. Did you hear that?"

  
As the Headsman lifted his blade, she realized she could not jump out of a tower onto a straw roof of a burning Inn, and then fall down to the next level. Her feet did not like leaving the ground.

"What in Oblivion is that?"

  
"Sentries! What do you see?" the Captain demanded.

  
One of her Soldier's answered. "It's in the clouds!"

  
Alduin landing on the tower in front of her brought her gibbering brain back to reality. As everyone began yelling the obvious "It's a Dragon" line, She watched as Alduin used his Thu'um on the crowd, and in the chaos of being tossed by someone's Voice even if it was a Dragons, she did not get to see him use his Thu'um again to call down Fire and Brimstone.

  
Her bound hands jerked to cover her head, trying to get her knees under her so she could stand, all the while being pelted with bits and chunks of rock debris.

  
She heard more then saw Ralof call out to her through the dust, "Hey, high elf. Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance! This way!" She stumbled towards the sound of his voice as he kept urging her towards him, Unlike in the game Ralof was smart enough to be in the Watch Tower door way and not out in the open waiting for her to get used to her joystick.

  
 _Wake up_ , she begged her mind, stumbling towards the doorway. **_Wake up_** , her mind screamed, a piece of the keep fell two feet from her. _I'm not dreaming_ , she realized, stubbing her toe on the foot of the tower stair looking up at Ralof in fear.

  
He grabbed her hand and pulled her shocked form through the archway.

  
"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" he asked the man who was in the process of removing his gag. She took in the two injured stormcloacks at the back wall and surprisingly Lokir was pacing by the tower steps.

  
"Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move, now!" Ulfric's voice was surprisingly gravelly like his voice actors, slightly different but gravelly. She wondered what he smoked or if maybe learning Thu'um's did that to a voice box.

  
"Up through the tower. Let's go!" Ralof gestured, "This way, friend! Move!"

  
A Stormcloack Soldier led the way, "We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!" but before he could dart forward to help the other one already working to clear the stairs, she grabbed the back of his armor stopping him from dying when Alduin shoved his face through the wall and blasted fire inside.

  
The Soldier still stood shocked in her grasp, Alduin said something in Dovah before flying off. Ralof took in the blocked passage and then out the new whole in the wall and pointed at the Inn. "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We'll follow you when we can!" he pushed her shoulder.

  
Her feet refused to moved "You want me to jump?! I'll only break my ankle or leg if I'm lucky enough to make it and if I miss, what then? You expect me to hobble back up here and attempt to do it again?" she demanded in disbelief.

  
"Yep." Ralof stated, and without warning pushed her off the tower. Her back hit wood covered in thick straw ( _he pushed me_ ), the breath was forced out of her lungs and before she could draw a new one in to scream at him, she rolled off the roof and fell ten feet into the Inn room. Something was broken or at least cracked she thought as tears welled up in her eyes; dragging her still bound hands under her she shakily pulled herself to her knees, drawing a breathe in, and another, and attempting several more draws but her lungs could not expand no more and she waited stunned for her lungs to force the air out so she could breathe again. She knew this struggle, she wasn't afraid that she would never breathe again, only feared the pain that would come when her breathe came back.

  
Her breathe finally left her with a quick exhale and an even quicker inhale, and oh the glorious pain of hopefully only cracked ribs informed her she was alive and the taste of smoke on her tongue and the inability to properly draw breathe without coughing reminded her that not only was she still alive but that she was in a burning wood building and needed to leave.

  
She stood and stumbled to the edge of the flooring, easing her aching body over the edge so this time her body would only have to fall five feet and not nearly twenty. She landed feet first,and her knees gave out forcing her ass to meet the wood floor, but adrenaline helped her to stand and her lungs desired cleaner air so she stumbled towards the light coming from the doorway.

  
Hadvar was yelling and gesturing at a young boy to get to saftey,"Haming, you need to get over here now!" The boy stumbled and ran towards Hadvar, clinging to the man when he finally reached him, "Thataboy. You're doing great!" Hadvar reassured him. "Torolf!" He called to another soldier. "Gods...everyone get back!" he yelled as Alduin landed and breathed fire on the street.

  
Hadvar turned to address the ones behind him and his brown eyes met hers. "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." He ordered. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

  
"Gods guide you, Hadvar." Gunnar told him, pulling the boy to him. She didn't remember how anyone aside from the Dragonborn and his guide escaped the village and prayed that at least Haming the little boy made it out alive. Although ending up in an orphanage supposedly sucked and trying to work on the streets sucked more. Jeez, she already wanted to protect all the Orphans and without a Septim to her name.

  
She ran down the street and pushed her back to the wall, knowing Alduin would land atop it to throw another-and yeah, there he went with his fire breath, safe to run again, stumbling through some sort of small house or storage unit, she ignored the archers and the chaos that was dying people running around wounded like chickens without heads and ran for the Keep.

  
Yanking on a heavy wooden door she tried to get it open as the idiot Nords behind her confronted each other.

  
"Ralof! You damned traitor, out of my way!"

  
"We're escaping, Hadvar! You're not stopping us this time."

  
"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde."

  
"You, come on! Into the keep!" Ralof called, and with relief She turned and realized someone else was with Ralof, though she didn't get a good look at him still trying to pull the door open. A large hand swatted hers away and yanked on the handle pulling the door open enough to slip through.

  
Inside was blessed coolness compared to the world outside, so she rested her hands on her knees and took several painful deep breaths. Ralof was checking out a fallen comrade. His hand closed Gunnar's eyes as he spoke to the Corpse.

  
"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother." Ralof stood and looked towards them, "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. That thing was a dragon. No doubt. Just like the children's stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times. We better get moving. Come here, let me see if I can get those bindings off." she walked forward and held up her bound hands and took in the Dragonborn, freezing when she caught sight of the survivor for the first time, Flaming red hair and a Jester's Costume. In his hand was a dagger, he probably had twenty daggers hidden all over him and she wondered how the Imperials caught him. "There you go. May as well take Gunjar's gear...he won't be needing it anymore. Alright, get that armor on and give that axe a few swings. I'm going to see if I can find some way out of here."

  
Cicero was watching her with pale green eyes, a smile upon his face, and a giggle falling from his lips.

  
"Well, what are you waiting for, put that armor on and---"

  
"Give that axe a few swings, yes, I heard you." she frowned at Ralof squatting and looking at the Stormcloacks armor. "How do I get it off, let alone put it on," she asked. Cicero crouched and began pulling the armor off and handing it to her; Slipping it over her head, her slim male body luckily wasn't bulky enough to not fit, and popping her feet into the fur boots she was glad she wouldn't be running around with cloth wrapped feet anymore. Putting on the last boot she looked up at Cicero under her eyelashes and saw him watching her in turn.

  
To hell with it, she had to drop that Night Mother Line right now or else he would probably kill her and Ralof. "Darkness rises when silence dies," she said, holding a finger to her lips when his eyes widened. "Silence, My Brother..."

  
"This one's locked. Let's see about that gate. Damn. No way to open this from our side." Ralof complained. Cicero crouched and pulled out a lock pick, but she placed a hand upon his shoulder and he turned to her in confusion.

  
"Two come this way to meet their end. They will have a key." Cicero raised a delicate red eyebrow, which looked comical in his Jester's uniform, but he stood and waited.

  
The Captains voice bellowed from down a hall and foot steps made there way towards them. "Come on, soldier! Keep moving!"

  
"It's the Imperials! Take cover!" Ralof hissed. She backed away and let Cicero and Ralof get in position.

  
"Get this gate open." The Captain ordered.

  
When the door opened though the soldier took a dagger to the throat and Ralof moved around him to attack the Captain with his own Axe. "Imperial dogs!" He shouted and quickly took her out as well with just a few swings.

  
"Maybe one of these Imperials had the key. Let's see here... Here we are, found a key. Let's see if it opens that door." Ralof went to the locked door anda moment later gave a happy shout, "That's it! Come on, let's get out of here before the dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads."

  
They followed Ralof through the door, down a hallway and a set of stairs, which she was quick to brace herself against the wall, confusing Cicero until the ground trembled and the ceiling collapsed.

  
"Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy." Ralof said, coughing at the new dust that was in the air. Ralof moved forward to push open the door, so she quickly touched Cicero's sleeve and leaned in, to whisper in his ear, "Two more ahead that will fall by your blade,"

  
Cicero strolled into the room behind Ralof, and they heard the commotion from the two soldiers trying to grab provisions in their escape.

  
"Grab everything important and let's move! The dragon is burning everything to the ground." the one ordered trying to get the other to hurry so they could leave.

  
"Just need to gather some more potions." the second one said, heading towards a barrel.

  
Cicero crouched and slowly crept around the support pillar as Ralof grabbed the soldiers attention with a war cry. As the two rushed towards Ralof drawing their blades, Cicero skipped out behind them stabbing one in the back and slicing the second ones throat when he turned around in surprise. Ralof stared at the two bodies in disbelief.

  
He came back to his senses quickly and looked around and stated the obvious, "A storeroom. See if you can find any potions. We'll need them. "

  
She looked at the pillar and grabbed the Garlic and dried Elves Ear's, holding the alchemy ingredients in hand she wondered where she should store them when Cicero walked over with a small Satchel to use.

  
With Ralof standing by the door and them on the other side of the room she quickly informed him of the their, well, his next opponents.

  
"Down the next flight of stairs is the Torture Room with two Imperial Tortures fighting two Stormcloacks, do not attack the stormcloacks. Then another hallway that will open to a cave and four Imperials, Two that are Archers that will stay at the end of the cave. Across the drawbridge will be three minor Frostspiders and two full grown Frostspiders and in the last cave we will pass through is a Bear that we need to sneak past." Cicero took in a deep breathe and drank her face in greedily.

  
She wasn't gonna lie, her dangly bits ( _just call it a dick already, your dream dick, jeez dangly bits_ ) gave a pleased twitch before she reminded herself 1) wrong body, 2) wrong face, 3) he's insane. She kept telling herself this as Cicero danced around lightning and she grabbed the black backpack and put the dagger, and the book of the Dragonborn and the Spell Tome: Sparks and the septims he picked up from the Cage that he picked the lock with ease after the battle.

  
She told herself he was the Night Mother's Keeper and _really which of them was the Dragonborn_ and was she really the Listener or was the _true Listener going to call her out_ when they showed up cause then Cicero would gladly shove his dagger through her ( ** _DREAM_** ) heart.

  
And as Ralof sprinted ahead towards the light and the cold, shouting over his shoulder, "That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!"

  
She told herself this was a dream and it wouldn't hurt to dream ( _please be a dream_ ).


End file.
